


The Atrocity of Sunsets

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mental Breakdown, Romance, Schizophrenia, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I am terrified by this dark thing </i>
  <br/>
  <i>That sleeps in me;</i>
  <br/>
  <i>All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity</i>
</p><p>One morning, Kingsley visits Grimmauld Place and tells Harry a secret about Severus Snape.  From that moment on, Harry uses every strength he has to keep Severus safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Atrocity of Sunsets

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 Snarry-a-Thon. The quote in the summary and the title are from the poem 'Elm' by Sylvia Plath.

“We need your help again,” Kingsley says. He's flustered and highly strung, looking around as if someone's watching them. “Can I come in?”

Harry opens the door to Grimmauld Place which is still dark and dusty, even a year after the war. The portraits scream and Harry shushes them, gesturing for Kingsley to take a seat.

“What’s the matter?” Harry is itching for another war. He doesn’t want anyone to die, of course, but he's desperate to feel wanted again instead of stagnant and useless, barrelling around in this dark place which pulls him deeper into the shadows.

“Secret mission – you’re the only one we trust with it.” Kingsley is twitchy and nervous and he stands, knocking lightly on the wall and pressing his ear against it. “This place could be bugged. You had Death Eaters in here, once?”

“A long time ago,” Harry replies and frowns at the thought of something in the walls. The shadows are enough for him and he doesn’t like the idea of faceless people listening to his conversations. He would rather tear the whole place down.

“I’ll have to run a check.” Kingsley takes out his wand and starts tapping at things. Like a dripping tap, or a slow-moving typewriter and the dull rhythm grates on Harry’s nerves.

“Can’t you tell me what this is about?” Harry repeats and he grits his teeth to stop himself from snapping.

_Tap._

_Tap._

_Tap._

“Everything’s in order.” The tapping stops and Harry can breathe again. 

“I’m pleased to hear it. What’s this all about?” He is repeating himself for the third time and he doesn’t like it. He is reminded of Dumbledore telling him half-truths and bidding him to go into battle without a full arsenal of knowledge. It angers Harry still, even now, although he doesn’t tell anyone that. It wouldn’t be proper to speak ill of the dead.

“Snape is alive.”

Harry looks at his hands and sees the dark red arterial blood on his fingers and under his nails. When he looks again they are pale and clean and carry the light scent of soap.

“How is that possible?” Harry looks up and Kingsley is frowning like Harry is being slow to grasp the finer details. He seems frustrated and angry about something and rustles around in his robes. He gives Harry an address which Harry doesn’t recognise and he ignores Harry’s question.

“He’s expecting you.”

“He is?” Harry's head begins to hurt as he tries to piece the information together, struggling to make sense of everything. “What do you need me to do?”

“Keep quiet. Talk to no one – and I mean _no one_ about this. He can tell you the rest.” Kingsley emphasises his words and moves to the door. He taps his wand on the wall on the way out and pulls a face. “And keep this place warded – the walls have ears.”

Then Kingsley is gone and Harry holds the crumpled piece of paper in his hands, wondering what to do next.

His head still hurts and his thoughts are muddled so he lies on the sofa just to close his eyes for a moment.

When he sleeps, he dreams of snakes, bugs crawling over the walls and Severus Snape.

~ 

Harry wakes and for a moment he thinks Kingsley has returned because he can still hear the _tap tapping_.

He stands and notices the room is dark now. He wonders how long he slept for. He presses his ear to the wall to see if he can hear any of those bugs Kingsley mentioned, but he hears nothing.

When Harry walks into the kitchen a tap drips, which explains the noise in his head. He switches the tap on fully and fills a glass with water. He drinks, it helps and the ache in his head dulls just a little.

“Harry!”

Somebody's calling his name and he wonders if he’s hearing things. A hard rapping at the front door shakes him from his thoughts and he decides _no_ , he definitely isn’t hearing things. Even his thoughts aren’t that loud.

“Ron?”

“Where the bloody hell have you been? We haven’t seen you for months. You never answer our owls and I can’t remember the last time you came to quiz night at the Leaky.” Ron's angry and flushed and he pushes past Harry. 

“I didn’t think it had been that long, I’ve been busy.” Harry is confused because he doesn’t think he’s been a bad friend, but he can’t remember spending time with Ron and Hermione lately and he wonders what he’s been doing all of this time.

“We could have done with you on our team last Friday – loads of questions on Muggle sports.” Ron has stopped striding and he doesn’t sound angry anymore.

“I’m not sure I’d have been much help.” Harry remembers why he doesn’t go to the quiz because he’s not sure he would know the answers anymore. He struggles to think of a Muggle sport and all he can think of is cricket but he can’t remember the names of any of the teams, not now.

“Are you alright, mate? You look like shit.” Ron's concerned, Harry can hear it in his voice.

“I’m fine.” Harry forces a smile and claps a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “Drink?”

“Might as well.” Ron gives Harry a look and Harry isn’t sure he likes it, but he grabs two beers anyway and opens them with a crack and a fizz.

“How’s Hermione?”

“Good – busy with her studies, you know Hermione.” Ron gulps his beer and Harry watches his throat working as he swallows.

“Of course.” Harry chuckles and it sounds odd to his ears. Ron obviously thinks so too because he turns and stares at Harry until Harry has to look away.

“What've you been up to?”

“This and that.” Harry shrugs and he notices the way Ron looks carefully around, focusing on the notes Harry left himself to remind him of the things he needed to do.

“Right.”

They sit in silence while the clock ticks and Harry curls his fingers around the crumpled piece of paper in his pocket, thinking about Snape.

~ 

Harry thinks Ron left a long time ago because it’s dark and the clock tells him its late, but he can’t quite remember saying goodbye.

He looks at the piece of paper with the address scrawled on the face of it. Next to the paper is a phial. It's filled with scarlet liquid and has a label wrapped around the circumference written in a neat, fastidious hand which reminds Harry of homework and Hogwarts and the lingering scent of potions brewing. 

_For the end_

Harry wonders if Snape expected that Harry would be like this after the war – muddled and aching and not quite able to remember things anymore. He hopes Snape isn’t disappointed in Harry for not being strong after all.

He thinks he would hate that more than anything.

He closes his eyes and remembers the cool glass pressed against his palm, while his hands were sticky with blood and his face damp with tears. One silver phial, one red, each with a very definite purpose.

Harry’s head begins to hurt again and he wants to uncork the potion and drink until he can’t feel the pain anymore, but he knows there’s no going back because Dumbledore always told him that. 

Harry opens his eyes again and looks from the address to the phial and back again and shakes his head to clear his muddled thoughts as the _tapping_ he can still hear grates on his nerves. 

He has a mission to fulfil. 

It isn’t time.

~ 

“Potter.” Snape is scowling, but he doesn’t look surprised to see Harry. He looks from left to right to check nobody is watching them and then steps back, ushering Harry inside.

“Professor.” 

“Severus will do, I’m no longer your Professor.” Harry smiles because Snape - _Severus_ \- seems glad of that and in a rush of memories Harry is back in the Potions classroom, skinning shrivelfigs and keeping a close watch on Severus out of the corner of his eye.

“Shacklebolt sent me.”

“So I understand.” Severus snorts and rolls his eyes as if Shacklebolt is an idiot.

“Is this place safe?” Harry taps his wand against the walls as he saw Kingsley do and Severus glares.

“Of course it’s safe you little twit. Stop that infuriating tapping.”

“Alright,” Harry laughs and pockets his wand and feels better than he has in days. “How are you?”

“Not dead,” Severus responds, drily. He rubs his neck and Harry sees the glimpse of a scar above high-necked robes. “Which is a start.”

“Why are you hiding?” Harry is curious and he sits next to Severus on a small, worn sofa. He can’t seem to stop looking at Severus because part of him can’t believe he’s really here.

“Because there are people still living who wish to see me dead.” Severus scowls and Harry wonders if Severus’ current living situation is entirely self-imposed. Severus doesn’t really strike him as a man who would hide from his enemies, after all.

“What can I do?” Harry wants to help, he really does, but his head is starting to ache again and his thoughts are muddled. He worries because Kingsley won’t be happy if Harry can’t do his job properly.

“I believe Kingsley wishes you to act as a conduit between me and him. His moves are too heavily scrutinised to be able to visit with any frequency.”

“I can do that.” Harry knows he can and he smiles at Severus who frowns back.

“Are you quite alright, Potter?”

“Fine, just…” Harry trails off and gestures towards his forehead.

“You shouldn’t still be feeling pain now the connection with the Dark Lord has been destroyed.” Severus looks almost concerned and Harry wonders at it.

“It’s not so bad.”

“I may have something.” Severus is standing and moving in a _swish_ of robes. Harry watches him and thinks how tall he is. 

“Here – take this.” Harry looks at the potion doubtfully. It is dark green and looks unappealing, although he thinks it might be rude to say as much to Severus.

“What is it?”

“Something for your head – perhaps you don't trust me?” Severus arches an eyebrow at Harry and his lips fix in a tight line.

Harry shakes his head quickly and takes the potion in one gulp, wincing at the strange flavour.

His eyelids get a little heavy and he tries to stand.

“I should go.”

“Rest. I have no other engagements – you're hardly intruding.”

Harry feels the sofa dip next to him and before he lets sleep claim him, he feels the brush of cool fingers, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

~ 

When he sees Severus again, something's wrong.

The house looks untidy and Severus himself appears tired and irritable.

“You again.” He doesn’t look pleased, but he lets Harry in nevertheless. “I need you to get this to Shacklebolt.”

It’s a letter, sealed with hastily applied wax, and Harry wants to know what’s inside but Severus doesn’t seem to be in the right sort of mood to be asked questions.

“No problem.” Harry isn’t sure how he will get the letter to Shacklebolt because Kingsley hasn’t told him how Harry should reach him, but he imagines it should be easy enough. “No owls?”

“They can be too easily intercepted.” Severus looks at Harry as if he's daft and Harry bristles.

“I was only asking.” His voice sounds petulant and he hates it. 

They sit in silence and Harry itches to check the walls. He should have done so as soon as he came in, before they settled themselves on the sofa. He can feel Severus shift next to him and catches a waft of a spicy scent which fills his nostrils and takes him back to another time.

Severus puts on some music as if the silence is too much for him to bear. The song is soft and soothing and almost romantic. Harry would have expected something else entirely from Severus, and the ballad makes him wonder if someone has taken Severus and used Polyjuice to trick Harry.

“How have you been?” Harry looks carefully at Severus now for a quirk of character or an indication that there might be an imposter in the room. He grips his hand tightly in his pocket and wraps his fingers around his wand because it never hurts to be too careful.

“Just wonderful.” Severus sniffs and glares and Harry is somewhat reassured.

“I haven’t seen Kingsley for a couple of weeks.” The letter burns inside Harry’s robes and he is curious to know what the two men are corresponding about, feeling he is trying to put together a puzzle with only half of the pieces.

“I imagine he has been busy.” Severus doesn’t elaborate and carefully crosses his legs. Harry wonders if he should leave because now he has the letter there doesn’t appear to be anything else to say and the silence strains between them.

“I should go.” He doesn’t want to go back to the empty house filled with shadows and bugs in the wall, but he doesn’t feel he can stay unless Severus suggests it.

“If you wish to leave, then leave.” Severus doesn’t look at Harry and Harry wants to shake him but he doesn’t.

“Alright.” He stands, feeling unsteady on his feet and the cotton-wool feeling in his mind returns.

He leaves through the hall and Severus doesn’t see him out.

He takes the opportunity to _tap, tap_ on the walls but all appears to be in order. 

Outside it is cold and the evening has taken hold of the day.

He shivers and Apparates back to Grimmauld Place where the house is dark and still and the shadows move of their own accord.

~ 

“You have a letter for me?” Kingsley is back and he is tapping his wand over the walls until he satisfies himself the house is clean.

“Here.” Harry thrusts the letter out and Kingsley takes it. He seems to be in a hurry, pacing and looking about the place as if it makes him nervous.

“I trust you talked to no one?” 

“No one at all.” Harry rubs his neck and tries to think when it was that Ron came round. The empty beer bottles are still out but he was sure he cleared them away. It feels like months ago, but it must have only been days.

“I see.” Kingsley eyes the beer bottles and looks at Harry as if he doesn’t quite believe him. “I’m not sure this is working. We may need to get somebody else involved.”

“Who?” Harry's eyes widen and anger courses through him at the way Kingsley looks at him, full of distrust. The thought of not being able to see Severus again leaves him cold and he wonders why. They are hardly friends, after all.

“I suppose there is no one else.” Kingsley looks annoyed about that as if anyone would be better than Harry and Harry wants to know what he’s done wrong.

“I did as you asked.” 

“I suppose you did.” Kingsley pats the letter in his pocket and then leaves with a swish of his robes before Harry can ask any questions.

~ 

“Kingsley mentioned getting somebody else involved.”

Severus looks displeased at that, which pleases Harry.

“I do not wish to have everybody knowing my business. I'll speak to Shacklebolt.” 

“Good.” Harry smiles, happy that Severus doesn’t want to get rid of him. “How did you survive?”

“You ask too many questions, Potter.” Severus glares but Harry suspects he'll continue nonetheless. “I assume you're familiar with Anti-venin?” 

“Yes.” Harry isn’t, or not really, but he doesn’t want to appear stupid so he nods.

“I suppose you'll want a Firewhisky?” Severus pours one for himself and scowls at Harry. The liquid burns his throat and he doesn’t much like the taste, but he drinks it anyway, not wanting to seem impolite.

“Thank you.”

Severus inclines his head and takes a sip of his own drink, relaxing just a little as he does so. Harry watches him for a while as they sip their drinks in relative silence, taking in the slim lines of Severus’ body, framed by his dark robes. Close up his hair is inky-black but not as greasy as Harry had always thought. Harry itches to touch it and clutches his glass tighter in his hand.

“How are your friends?” Severus looks at Harry with a dark stare and Harry wonders if the question is more pointed than it seems. 

“They’re good. Ron and Hermione are looking for a place together.” Harry dimly remembers Ron telling him that. He can’t remember the last time he saw Hermione. She tried to visit, he recalls, but he didn’t answer the door. Harry can’t remember when that was.

“I see.” Severus snorts as if the idea of romance displeases him and swirls his Firewhisky in his glass. “And you remain at Grimmauld Place?”

Harry flushes because he feels as if he should have moved on with his friends to brighter and better things. He is embarrassed about the time he spends in the old Order headquarters, and wonders if he should look for a flat in Hogsmeade. He might make a note about that when he gets home, if he remembers.

“I’ve done the place up.”

“I’m sure you have.” Severus’ lips quirk in a smile and he looks at Harry. “I’m not criticising, you understand?”

“Yes.” Harry draws a breath and feels his hand tremble. He takes another sip of his drink to steady himself and winces again at the taste. 

“You seem unwell, Potter – is your head still bothering you?” Severus knits his eyebrows and gives Harry the sort of look which makes Harry wonder if Severus is using _Legilimency_ on him.

“Sometimes – it’s probably just a cold or something.” Harry knows Severus doesn’t believe him but he’s not sure he wants another potion that makes him sleep the day away. He worries about talking in his sleep and about what he might say. 

Harry doesn’t want Severus to know what he dreams about.

“I see.” Severus doesn’t appear convinced but he doesn’t push and Harry is grateful for it. “It may surprise you to learn that I have some sympathy for the lasting effects proximity to the Dark Lord can have on a person.”

Harry notices Severus rub his neck again, just as Harry sometimes rubs his forehead and he wonders if Severus sometimes has nightmares too. Harry can’t imagine Severus being afraid of the dark.

“I reckon my friends think I’m barmy sometimes.” Harry laughs without humour and Severus settles a hand on his shoulder.

“Your _friends_ are not in a position to understand these things. You should be careful whom you trust.”

“Kingsley said the same thing.” Harry furrows his brow and wonders about Ron and Hermione who Dumbledore told him to trust with everything. 

“Shacklebolt is an idiot.” Severus glowers and Harry can’t help but laugh at the look of derision on Severus’ face.

He wonders how Severus ended up going to Kingsley for help in the first place, and thinks maybe Kingsley just knew about Severus and took matters into his own hands. Harry imagines that making Severus angry and grins.

“Can I stay here for a while?” Harry blurts it out before he can stop himself and he feels heat in his cheeks.

“If you must.” Despite his words Severus reaches for the Firewhiskey and tops up Harry’s glass.

The music begins to play again and the fire cracks and spits and Harry feels warm for the first time in ages.

~ 

“Harry?”

“I’m awake.” Harry sits up and blinks and Hermione's standing there, looking concerned. He wonders how she got in when he warded the Floo and winces as he thinks how Kingsley might react to him leaving the place unguarded.

“It’s Friday evening – we thought you might want to come for a drink.” Hermione looks around the place, her nose wrinkled, and Harry finds it mildly annoying.

“For the quiz?” 

“That, and just to spend some time together – it’s been a while.” 

Harry notices Hermione's dressed for the evening, with a light flush of makeup on her face and the scent of perfume which is cloying in the thick air of the room. He should open a window to let in some air, but he doesn’t like sleeping with the window open and the door unlocked. He should have considered the Floo and wonders why he didn’t.

“I suppose I could come for one.” Harry isn’t overly enthusiastic about the idea but he thinks it might do him good to get out for a change.

“Brilliant.” Hermione looks at Harry’s clothes and frowns slightly. “Are you going to change?”

“Do I need to?” Harry looks at his crumpled t-shirt and notices there appears to be a stain on it. He can’t remember when he last ate and wonders how that happened. “Right. I suppose I do.”

“It doesn’t need to be anything fancy – it’s just the Leaky.” Hermione still speaks with a note of concern and Harry gets to his feet.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” 

He makes his way up the stairs and looks through his clothes. He doesn’t remember having so many things and wonders where they all came from. Eventually he settles on jeans and a t-shirt which smells less like mothballs than the others, and he looks in the mirror.

He doesn’t recognise himself. His face is dark with stubble and his eyes look sunken, his cheekbones higher than normal and the skin around his eyes bruised looking. He can’t understand why he looks so tired when it feels like all he does lately is sleep.

He splashes cold water on his face and brushes his teeth. He doesn’t bother about his hair because that’s always been hopeless and like Hermione says, it’s just the Leaky.

“What’s all this?” 

When Harry gets back downstairs, he sees Hermione looking at the notes he made to himself. He tries to remember if there's anything about Severus there, but his mind is too muddled. He hopes there isn’t. He can hear Kingsley telling him off and determines to be more careful.

“Just some notes – scribbles and things.”

“I see.” Hermione frowns thoughtfully and Harry doesn’t like her expression. He can hear the _tapping_ sound and wonders if he's left the tap running again. Hermione can’t seem to hear it though and he supposes it doesn’t really matter.

“Come on, then.” Now that Hermione's here and looking through his things, Harry is impatient to leave. The last thing he wants is for her to find the address or some mention of Severus. 

Hermione steps into the Floo and he's glad she goes first. For a moment, Harry's tempted not to follow and to curl up again on his sofa, but he knows she'd only come back again. With a sigh, he calls out for the Leaky and stumbles through on the other side.

“Harry, mate!” Ron laughs and claps him on the shoulder. Seamus looks pleased to see him and already half-pissed.

“Evening.” Harry feels strangely shy and out of place, as if he doesn’t really know any of these people anymore. He finds his mind wandering to Severus and wonders what he is doing now. 

“Blimey, Harry – we haven’t seen you in ages.” Neville grins at Harry and Harry grins back, his jaw aching a little from his forced smiling.

“Pint?”

“Firewhisky.” Harry notices the look his friends give one another when he orders a Firewhisky and he holds his hands up in a gesture of defence. “Aren’t I allowed to change my tastes? I can’t drink Butterbeer forever.”

“No one minds, mate.” Seamus laughs and nods to Ron. “Ron’s just being tight.”

“Oh.” Harry isn’t sure what to say to that – he's lost his quick comebacks and his ability to deal with fast-paced conversation. He nurses his Firewhisky while everybody talks around him and he wonders why he came.

Seamus finishes a story and everybody laughs. Harry must have missed the punch line and laughs awkwardly, just a little too late and a little too forced.

“Everything okay, then?” Now Neville is concerned and the table falls silent. The weight of everybody watching him makes Harry grit his teeth.

“Of course – why wouldn’t it be?”

“You just haven’t been around much.” Seamus shrugs. Harry feels as if he's being ticked off and he doesn’t like it.

“I’ve had things to do.”

“It’s alright, nobody’s blaming you.” Hermione sounds concerned and Ron frowns and nothing is quite _right_. The lights in the pub are too bright and Harry's head begins to hurt again. 

He looks away from the worried glances to see Kingsley standing by the door. He looks angry and beckons to Harry. The chatter and laughter begins again and nobody else appears to have noticed.

“I just need some air.” Harry stands and Ron puts a hand on his arm.

“Are you sure everything’s alright? Do you want company?”

“It’s fine, I promise.” Harry hunts for something to say and shrugs when the words don’t seem to come. “I’ve just got a bit of a headache – I haven’t felt right for the last few days.”

“Right.” Ron drops his hand and looks as if he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t and Harry leaves the pub, letting the cool air wash over his face.

“Potter – what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kingsley looks furious as Harry expected him to be and he's suddenly exhausted.

“I was just having a drink with friends.”

“Don’t you understand what’s happening?” Kingsley taps his wand against the wall and then presses close to Harry. “You can’t just go out for drinks as if we’re not still fighting a war.”

“We’re still fighting a war?” Harry blinks at Kingsley and feels stupid. He didn’t know about this other war, he thought he was just keeping Severus safe.

“Come with me.” Still looking angry, Kingsley takes Harry’s arm and walks him away from his friends, into the darkness.

~ 

“I went out to the Leaky the other night. Kingsley wasn’t too happy.”

“I imagine not. Take this.” Severus gives Harry another letter, which Harry pockets, the routine familiar to him now.

“I didn’t enjoy it much.” Harry finds it easier to speak to Severus than anybody else these days. Severus doesn’t look at Harry as if he’s going mad, and he doesn’t ask too many questions.

“I sympathise.” 

“I don’t know who I can talk to anymore.” Harry worries he sounds small and childish in front of Severus and he hates it.

“I suppose if you must talk with someone it's not as if I have anything better to do.” 

“Were you in love with my mum?” Harry isn’t sure why he asks because he’s positive he knows the answer and he doesn’t think he really wants to hear it.

“I believed I was for a long time.” Severus is honest at least and then he smirks at Harry. “However, it became apparent my inclinations lay _elsewhere_.”

Harry feels a flush of heat as he realises what Severus means because it’s something Harry understands all too well, not that he's told anyone. He turns his glass in his hands and avoids Severus’ eyes, although he can tell that he's still being watched.

“I understand.”

“I see.” Severus doesn’t say much but every word _means_ something and when Harry looks up he knows that Severus really does understand, in a way nobody else seems to lately.

“I’m glad you’re still alive.”

“Sometimes I find myself less than thrilled.” Severus smirks and Harry smiles. 

He drinks his Firewhisky and when he settles back against the sofa, Harry feels long fingers brush against the nape of his neck. With a sigh he relaxes into the touch which soothes him.

“I don’t know what I'd do without you.”

“Hush.” Severus continues to stroke Harry’s neck and pulls him a little nearer.

Harry moves willingly into his arms.

~ 

“I’ve decided to tell Ron and Hermione about you. I can trust them – I know I can.” Another letter burns a hole in Harry’s pocket and he steels himself for Severus’ response.

“Do you think that's wise?” Severus arches an eyebrow and Harry shrugs.

“They’re worried about me. I reckon it'll help if they know what I’ve been doing. I told them all sorts during the war and they never let me down.”

“Yet you previously indicated you had been feeling some distance between you?” Severus doesn’t push too hard and Harry nods, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah, although I’m sure it’s because they’re together now. I’m a bit of a third wheel.” Harry flushes because he wants to have someone of his own and he has thought a lot lately about who that someone might be. He hopes Severus doesn’t notice.

“Is that so?” Severus looks as if the idea entertains him. “Perhaps you simply need a love interest of your own?”

“Perhaps.” Heat rises in Harry's cheeks and he curses his body’s reactions.

Severus chuckles and the sound is low, rich and _perfect._

“Something on your mind, Harry?”

“No. Nothing at all.” 

Harry can tell Severus doesn’t believe him but he really doesn’t mind.

~ 

“This is becoming something of a regular occurrence.”

“Do you mind?” Harry stands awkwardly on the doorstep and waits to be invited in.

“If I minded, I should have no qualms about throwing you out on your ear.” Severus steps to one side and lets Harry enter the house.

As Harry walks past Severus, he catches that same, spicy scent and it makes him pause as he breathes it in. He feels large hands on his hips, pulling him back against a warm, solid chest and he moans despite himself.

“Severus?”

“I thought this is what you desired?” Severus brushes his lips against Harry’s neck and pulls him closer. 

The _tapping_ which has been in Harry's head all morning fades into nothing, and he melts into Severus’ arms with a sigh. 

“It is.”

~ 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around so much.” Harry's in the Leaky again although he doesn’t know why because the pub is too loud and busy for this sort of discussion.

“We’ve been a bit worried,” Hermione says. Harry smiles, hoping she'll be reassured when he tells them his secret.

“I’ve been busy. There's something I need to tell you.” Harry looks around and then dips his voice so they won’t be overheard. “I’ve been spending time with Severus – Professor Snape.”

“Good one.” Ron laughs and Harry hates that he isn’t being taken seriously.

“Severus is dead, Harry.” Hermione looks concerned and pats his hand as if he's a child who needs to be mollified. “Don’t you remember we attended his memorial service?” Harry grits his teeth because of course he remembers and the way Hermione and Ron are looking at one another makes him angry.

“You don’t trust me.” It’s a statement rather than a question and Harry wonders if he made a mistake telling them his secret.

“It’s not that we don’t trust you.” Ron frowns and the words left unspoken make Harry clench his hands into fists. “It’s just a bit unbelievable.”

“Is it?” Harry knows he’s snapping at his friends but he feels a cold sense of isolation as they look at one another and not at him.

“Who told you Professor Snape was alive?” Hermione tries to placate Harry but it only serves to annoy him.

“Shacklebolt.” Harry hopes that the fact the Minister told him about Severus will be enough for them. 

They still look unsure.

“But he’s been in America for the last three months.” Ron looks confused but Harry isn’t listening. He sees Kingsley in a small booth towards the back of the pub. He lifts his finger to his lips and Harry understands he can’t say anymore.

“You think I’m mad.” 

“Don’t put words into our mouths.” Hermione's angry now and it's _our_ and _we_ and _together_ which irritates Harry and the gap between them widens and stretches, gaping black and full of nothing.

“I’m not.” He sits back and they look at one another in silence. The sound of Kingsley’s tapping comes to mind and Harry rubs his forehead, wondering if Kingsley is tapping his wand on the table. He looks over but Kingsley is gone. 

Harry wonders if perhaps someone needs to check the walls for bugs. He shouldn’t have been so loose-lipped without making absolutely sure no one could hear them. Kingsley will have him for that.

“We wondered if you should see someone.” Hermione looks at Ron and Ron looks at Hermione. Neither of them look at Harry.

“Who?” Maybe Harry's friends do think he's mad, after all. 

He longs for Severus and wants to settle into his arms again and forget about the rest of the world. Severus believes in Harry, at least. The dull ache in his head returns and his thoughts are dampened by the mood which hangs thickly around them.

“We’re worried about you.” Ron’s voice softens and Harry wonders how long they've been talking about him.

“It might help to speak to someone about the war.” Hermione grips Harry’s hand and he knows they mean well but their words make him hot and angry.

“I’m _fine_.”

He can tell from the way they look at each other that they don’t believe it.

~ 

“Severus…” Harry curls up on the sofa, next to Severus and a cool hand strokes his aching forehead, soothing back Harry’s hair. Harry's forehead perspires with the effort of trying to still his racing thoughts and the cold touch is blissful.

“Better?” Severus makes everything better and Harry feels he should know that, so he nods.

“They keep telling me you’re not real.” Harry can hear the confusion in his voice and his thoughts rattle around his head as he tries to focus on Severus.

“They’re lying to you.” Severus replies smoothly. “I told you not to trust them, Harry. They wouldn’t understand this.”

“No.” Harry relaxes at the sound of Severus speaking and leans further into his touch. “You feel real.”

“And that's because I am.” Severus pauses and cards his fingers gently through Harry’s hair once more. “If you feel it is absolutely necessary I can agree to one visit – one visit from Miss Granger, but that's all.”

“You would?” Harry is surprised and wonders why Severus would do that, looking up at him and wanting to make sure Severus is safe. “But won’t that put you in danger?”

“Potentially – it may also put Miss Granger at risk.”

“I see.” Harry frowns and tries to shake the fog in his head. He can hear Shacklebolt telling him off for making all of the wrong decisions and the sound of the tapping of Shacklebolt’s wand against the walls sets his teeth on edge. “I think we should leave this between the two of us for now.”

He promised to keep Severus safe after all. 

“You’re quite sure?” Severus tips Harry’s chin and meet his eyes and Harry wonders if he could drown in Severus because that would be a good way to go.

“Positive.” Harry hesitates but only for a _tap_ and a puff of breath and then he is speaking again. “I believe in you. I don’t need anybody else to tell me you’re real.” 

And Harry does believe it, because he has to. He knows he would go mad if he didn’t.

“Very well.” Severus pulls Harry tightly against his chest and flicks his wand. A small phial floats towards them and Harry looks at it. It's red like the colour of blood and toxic-looking. Harry remembers it from a long time ago and can see the neat writing on the label which he recognises as Severus’ own. “This should help your head.”

“You always know what’s best.” Harry smiles and takes the phial, opens it and drinks.

_For the end_

It tastes like the rainwater he would catch on his tongue when he flew, the icing from the cakes Hagrid would give to him every year and like pumpkin juice and butterbeer. It tastes like childhood and memories. It’s the best thing Harry has ever had and he tries to tell Severus so, but his lips move slowly and his voice is sluggish and he just can’t think anymore.

“Rest now, Harry.” Severus speaks instead and Harry wants to tell him that he loves him but the thought gets away from him, _helter skelter_ and lost to him forever.

“You’ll still be here when I wake up?” Harry manages to speak at last in a murmur and a whisper and his voice is heavy with sleep.

“Yes,” Severus replies but now his voice is far away as though Severus is in another room or on the other side of the wall and Harry has to cling to him to reassure himself that Severus is still there. “I’ll always be with you.”

Music starts to play and Harry recognises it.

Severus always plays this when Harry comes round and Harry always listens.

And the soft strains of music move through Harry’s mind with a soothing whisper and he tugs the thick black robes around himself. 

The sweet tasting potion lingers on his tongue and all Harry can see as he closes his eyes is _Severus_ , who holds out his hand and looks at Harry fondly as if he's been waiting for him.

Harry takes Severus’ hand and it feels warm instead of cold and that’s strange, because Severus was holding him only a moment ago and cooling Harry’s forehead which burned.

Harry smiles.

“You’re still here.”

Severus smiles back and brushes his lips against Harry’s.

“Always.”

_~Fin~_


End file.
